Grey Only
by High Echo
Summary: His name is Kuno Hibiki. You got that right: Kuno. Hibiki. Make no mistake, he might be a doppelganger - one of many, in fact - but he isn't going play nice just because he shares faces with the real deal. Self-Insert with tons of trolling potential.
1. Herd To The Flock

-Chapter 1-

 **Herd To The Flock**

* * *

He heard the body drop before he saw it. One brief look and he was already turning around with a sharp twist of his heel.

Fool. The murderer was looking at his cellphone while he was _disposing of a severed head._ The bag was wide open.

Amateur, or just plain stupid?

"Nope," he shook his head in denial. He was not dealing with this today.

"Hibiki? What on Earth do you think you're doing?"

Oh, no… Well, damn it. He knew that voice.

With deliberate slowness, Hibiki craned his neck sideways to give her his best, obviously not fake, nonchalant expression.

He could spot the murderer twitching from the corner of his eye at the unexpected appearance.

Damn this all to hell.

"Wakana! Hey!" he called to her loudly. Since there was going to be a confrontation anyway, then why bother holding back, right?

The object of his frustrations was no other than his childhood friend. Yamazaki Wakana had a pair of startlingly green eyes hidden behind the thick frame of her black glasses and the most fearsome fists of fury Hibiki had ever had the misfortune to taste first-handedly on his body. True to her neat-freak nature, his childhood friend's hair was tied up in a high ponytail and dressed in their school uniform, the very epitome of a normal-looking female teenager. _And she was currently fixing him with a purely Wakana-patented death stare._

No one could accuse Yamazaki Wakana of being feminine, no sir.

Ugh, this girl…

"You're going in the opposite direction to school," she drawled disapprovingly. Her face said that she was, at best, unimpressed by his behavior.

"No, I am not," he laughed obnoxiously, forefinger scratching his left cheek almost sheepishly.

Hibiki recovered quickly, though, remembering the original problem as soon as he spotted a shadowy figure moving towards them. With a fake grin, he grabbed her by her hand and started pulling her along in a brisk walk.

"In fact—! Hey, now that you mention it, we'd better get going! It's getting late and Shiyobashi-sensei will kick our asses if we show up late again."

The girl screeched in surprise, "Hibiki! There's no need for this! I can walk, you know!?"

Wakana could grump and whine all she wanted, but Hibiki was content with the fact she went along with his manhandling without too much fuss. Which, he reflected with relief, was just as well. He kind of didn't have the time to have her being difficult, not when they were being followed. Hibiki was already searching for possible escape routes, keeping in mind to stay with the crowd at all times.

And the opportunity came without much fanfare. They rounded a corner.

As soon as he saw the chance, Hibiki shoved them both into a nearby alley and made Wakana crouch behind a dumpster next to him, hands covering her mouth just in case. In that uncomfortable position, he waited for their tail to walk by. And sure enough, not even half a minute had passed and the man was already within sight.

Holding his breath, Hibiki allowed himself a moment to properly examine the criminal.

Sawada looked piteously weak. There was not enough muscle in his arms and legs to be a remarkable threat in a fair fight with a skilled combatant, even though he couldn't be older than thirty. Going by that information alone, Hibiki could try to overpower him fairly quickly if there came the time to throw punches. Furthermore, the movement of his limbs looked awkward enough to allow an edge over him… And a well-timed push would probably trip him if he was ever close enough to try to fight back. If it ever got to that, though, Hibiki was confident in his chances to take him down. At least _he_ had some physical training to fall back in this kind of situation.

Worst came to worst, Wakana had a mean hook to her as well. It wouldn't be smart of him to dismiss her right off the bat.

Wary, tense and generally ready for something bad to happen, Hibiki waited impatiently to see if their pursuer would wise up and see them, but the man continued walking past them, so he graciously removed his hand from Wakana's mouth before she got into her mind to lick him—or worse, bite off his fingers.

Her fury was something to behold, terrifying and swift.

"Hi-boke-me!" Wakana took him by the ear and hissed dangerously into the small appendage. Hibiki winced at the force behind the yank. His childhood friend had reached the end of her rope and was done playing around. "You may want to start explaining now, or so help me! I'll turn you into a bloody pulp!"

Hibiki swallowed and visibly pulled himself together. Calmly, he met her eye dead seriously.

"Call the police," he told her.

Wakana's eyes narrowed in confusion and then widened in shock and fear. She released his ear.

"W-why?" she asked.

"Because someone is trying to hide a body in Niigata Station," Hibiki said. There was no mistaking the dark look in his eyes.

As Wakana fumbled with her phone, he told her what he saw: a severed head being dropped into a trash can and a man carrying a large sports bag, which was full to the point of bursting with limbs. The man was scruffy, he explained. The murderer hadn't bothered to change—just kind of draped a long coat over his bloody clothes. Probably because he was used to people overlooking him or outright ignoring him. It made sense because people usually avoided coming into contact with shabby characters on the streets. Some even actively avoided them. To hide his identity, Sawada was only wearing a baseball cap to hide his face. Perhaps a bit naively, the murderer didn't think people would care enough to look for a face and now that flaw in logic had cost him dearly. He had a tattoo in his left hand.

"Oh, on a side note," Hibiki mumbled quickly, almost stumbling with the words, "the guy might have seen me while he was trying to dispose of the body."

"Hibiki!" Wakana was pale, much too pale.

"I said he might have! I'm not a hundred percent sure!"

"Still, you are an idiot! You don't let people see you in that kind of situation!"

"Like you would have been any smarter," Hibiki droned automatically. In warning, Wakana raised her fists. Hibiki had seen her do that too many times to risk it. He tried to placate her by throwing up his arms in the universal sign of surrender. "We lost him, though!" he hurried to say.

"Who's to say that he won't look for you, though?" Wakana whispered to him furiously. "You saw his face, didn't you!? If I were him and saw you looking at me right at that moment, I wouldn't let you go!"

 _Me neither,_ he thought grimly. His senses were going haywire, hair standing up on the back of his neck. The man was still too close for comfort.

"Call them," he hushed her.

That earned him another death glare. She, however, relented after he pled with her with his eyes.

"Hello?" Wakana spoke quietly into the phone. "This is Yamazaki Wakana speaking. I'd like to report a murder in Niigata Station. Yeah, a man. Late twenties, maybe?" Her face darkened. She looked at Hibiki, struggling with the words. "We… uh, we don't know for sure. He has a cap covering his face," she explained.

Wakana winced, "Yes, he's with me." She covered the speaker and shot him a dry look. She offered him the device with a shaking hand. "Inspector Hagure is asking for you. Honestly…" Wakana groused in disgust.

Hibiki took the phone with a grimace.

"Hello?"

"Kuno Hibiki?"

The teenager sighed, "Yeah, that's me."

"I should put you in house arrest out of principle," the police officer grumbled, "There's no situation revolving a murder scene that doesn't include you. If I didn't know any better, I'd say that you were the one orchestrating the whole thing. Tell me, are you secretly a death god plotting against humanity?"

"Hardy har har," Hibiki mock laughed. Outwardly, his face was distinctly unimpressed by the Hagure's latest attempt at black humor. "Very funny, inspector."

"Seriously, though… A murder in Niigata Station? What kind of person is stupid enough to try to hide the body there—right in the middle of the day?"

"Not a murder, inspector, just a body disposal," Hibiki corrected him quietly. It still amazed him that no one but him had detected the criminal trying to be sneaky, despite the rush hour. It had to be Anime Logic acting up at its worse. "The crime scene is elsewhere. We've still gotta find that."

Hagure made a low sound from the back of his throat.

"Still…"

"Look, inspector. Someone is gunning for me right now," Hibiki said grimly.

Wakana, to his right, was doing her best impression of being a lifelike statue. Hibiki tried to smile reassuringly at her, but apparently he was not doing the reassuring part properly. The smile quickly withered into a small grimace.

Inspector Hagure sighed through the speaker.

"I see… Why I am not surprised? Don't move. I'll have several units scouting the area in ten minutes. Oh, and, Kuno-kun…?"

"Yeah?"

"I don't want a repetition of what happened at Wakuwaku Winter Festival," the inspector said tightly.

"Hey!" Hibiki groaned quietly, "I'll have you know, it wasn't my fault! That crazed woman startled me while I was eating!"

"We had to remove chopsticks from her hands—your chopsticks, to be exact! The woman had her hands pinned _to a tree!_ Do I need to explain myself in detail?"

Hibiki rolled his eyes.

"Not my fault," he insisted. "And she was the bad guy, so it really doesn't count."

"Sure," Inspector Hagure conceded—or rather was not in the mood to argue. "I'll be around in fifteen minutes. Do yourself a favor and lie low. Follow the sirens once you hear them."

"Right-o, Inspector!" Hibiki did an impression of a cheer and the inspector was back to his grumbling as he shut the phone closed. "Here," he handed the phone back to its owner.

Wakana was rubbing—no, digging into her temples with her fingers when she took it back. Her visage mostly reflected how resigned she felt with the situation.

"Corpse Magnet… I swear when this dies down, I'll kill you with my bare hands," his childhood friend declared with no real heat in her voice.

"You always say the nicest things to me, love," Hibiki simpered cheekily and winked at her.

Her flustered response was lost to him as he peeked around their little hideout.

Luckily enough, no one saw him doing it. Then again, that didn't mean there wasn't anyone in the near vicinities.

Hibiki practically threw himself back against the wall when he saw the criminal loitering right outside their alley. Amongst the momentous panic, his mind managed to stutter out an approximation of the distance between them, the information leaving him feeling cold when he realized it wasn't much. His heart flipped uneasily inside his ribcage as he heard steps coming into the alley.

Damn it! Of all times to run out of luck…!

Uneasily, Wakana swore under her breath, "Don't tell me—"

"Don't!" he mouthed at her.

The girl's mouth closed with an audible click. Something must have caught the killer's attention because they could hear the man creeping closer, cautiously, almost shuffling his feet on the concrete.

 _Give me a break!_ Hibiki thought, paling. His hand went down a notch to his pockets, where he kept some of his knives hidden.

The man kicked something metallic nearby, the sound echoing to the place they were.

"Oh, God," Wakana moaned pitifully and hid her face with her hands.

Hibiki closed his eyes, breathing deeply. Panic was unbecoming of him.

He thought of his mother and the way she had brought him up. For someone who claimed to be retired from her line of work, at least she had her priorities straight when it came to him. His mother had been the one to teach him all she knew about weaponry, self-defense and survival. How to turn the tables on the one preying on you, how to use knives without cutting himself, how to attack effectively with them... Everything there was to know came from her.

Kuno Sumi had raised him to be a formidable assassin. He had no right to lose his cool over an inexperienced amateur playing with a shiny new toy.

New mindset setting in quickly, Hibiki could feel the way his training was kicking in. His heart rate was already steadier and his limbs relaxed for optimal movement. His grip on reality was sounder than it was before.

When he opened his eyes, there was no hesitation.

"Stay here," he ordered Wakana stiffly.

The teenager stood up and brought his hands deep into his pockets. There, he grabbed the grips of his knives and clutched them tightly with his fists. Hibiki began to walk away from his wide-eyed friend before she had the chance to regain her senses and make a grab for him.

The man with the guise of sheep began to turn in their direction. But he was no such thing. With his sharpened senses, Hibiki caught the glint of a firearm tucked on the side of the murderer's denims. Splatters of what could have seemed like dark paint were suddenly clear crimson clotting on black cloth.

Hibiki's nose twitched. This man reeked of blood. He was cocky to have not disposed of the evidence already. And to walk around in that shirt, despite the dark coloring…

Hibiki took note of that. Of the unconscious arrogance. Even if Sawada was nervous because he was seen, it could potentially be his adversary's downfall if he failed to subdue him quickly. One wrong move and this could end up poorly for them, if only because he was armed. But like hell he was letting Wakana get hurt by this guy.

Expertly, and with the ease of someone who was experienced, he took out his switchblades, snapped them straight with a flick of his thumbs and took off.

The world stood at a standstill—or not quite that, just moving very slowly. Hibiki was suddenly aware of every single living thing in the area—mind cataloging foes, allies and neutral parties in a matter of milliseconds—as far as his radius was concerned. One leap of his feet was four strides by normal standards. The gap between Hibiki and the man who wanted to hurt them was suddenly very short to the teenager, who only had to duck under the swipe of the attack the other tried to land on him as he lashed out instinctively before making his move.

Blades glinting and with cool precision, Hibiki made to stab his opponent in the middle, anticipating the way the man moved to protect his stomach in order to take a jab at his throat instead with his other hand.

The both froze in that position.

The tip of his switchblades jeered mockingly at his opponent. They were _this_ close to pierce the flesh of his neck and the man knew it if the doe-like look he was sporting was of any indication. Sawada's swallowed uneasily against the cool metal.

"Bu-but you were—!" the murderer stammered.

Hibiki's teeth glinted savagely in the dim light.

"Does it matter? You're dead."

Not giving him the chance to retaliate, the teenager used his other blade to cut through the fabric of the man's jeans and belt. Two things happened in tandem: Sawada squeaked in fear and the jeans dropped to the ground as soon as there was nothing to support their weight. Without support, the gun and the cellphone the murderer had been using before clattered in the otherwise silent alley.

More importantly, Sawada was now without a means to contact anyone who would help him and he was without a weapon to defend himself against him. Their attacker was now sweating heavily, the cooling breeze of the morning prompting his lower extremities to break into goose bumps. His crotch, thankfully, was still fully clothed.

Hibiki's expression eased into a smile, one that was practically overflowing with venomous sugar. With Sawada's eyes focused on him alone, he'd missed how Hibiki had kicked the gun away from the two of them as a precautionary measure.

"Cocky," Hibiki tutted quietly. "Too cocky, in fact. Your chances of getting away with this murder have been reduced to absolute cero because of your arrogance."

Sawada attempted to move, but stopped immediately at the faint prick of the blades digging into his neck. They drew blood with laughingly ease.

"What were you trying to accomplish, I wonder?" Hibiki mused quietly. He could see the man's jugular vein dancing with fear. "Chase after the teenager and shoot him as well? What would happen after that? You'd have two bodies to dispose of, then. Three, if you added the girl that was with the boy. And where would that leave you?" he asked rhetorically. "How would you dispose of the evidence in that kind of situation? You don't have the body build to carry two bodies. Plus, you never did get rid of your first victim. Careless. Impulsive. You brought the evidence with you."

More whimpers. Half-assed attempts at getting away from him. Sawada's eyes swirled in the direction of the bloody sports bag, as if he could just will it away from there. Without that gun, he was harmless.

The teenager observed everything, boring into panicked eyes.

"You seem to prefer firearms," Hibiki started leadingly. "I am sure that once we examine that bag we'll know for sure. My best bet is that you surprised your victim by shooting them from behind—"

The man gave a big start, eyes wide and mouth moving but not forming any words.

 _Bingo!_

Hibiki smirked triumphantly.

"So you _did_ shoot while they were distracted. I was wondering about that," he admitted and shrugged, deceivingly unconcerned about that fact. "I had my suspicions, because, well, you don't seem like the type that wants to risk bodily harm against an opponent. Still, it's very nice of you to confirm my theory. It goes a little like this: it doesn't matter if they appear to be weaker than you. You play it safe. You freeze when there's a risk."

As if to emphasize his point, his switchblades gleamed with the sunlight. Sawada's skin complexion was chalk-white. The man had yet to move from his spot.

Hibiki's grin showed teeth. "You are afraid. Dead terrified, in fact. I bet you don't do this for a living. Actually, your work was too sloppy for this to be anything but your first murder. And it wasn't premeditated. It's too passionate, too much blood involved. To cut them up like that afterwards... There must have been a lot bad blood between the two of you, isn't that right?"

He wasn't looking for answers, but after that question, a heavy silence descended between the two of them. They both knew there was nothing that the other could use to defend himself. The illegal possession of the gun would be incriminating for itself, landing Sawada a few years in prison already. Japan's gun laws were amongst the mightiest across the globe. And that was if they didn't convict him for assault and murder.

"As I said, you got carried away. I'm sure you wasted one too many bullets on your victim just to reassure yourself that your victim was dead—and you totally enjoyed doing it, so don't bother denying it. So caught in the moment, you didn't notice that you were making several…" Hibiki hummed thoughtfully for a moment before his visage turned positively feral. _"Mistakes,"_ he purred. "When you killed for the first time ever, you used up your secret weapon and left yourself no choice but to scramble for a quick solution. Hiding a body is no easy feat. But you must know that now, right?"

The other man blanched at the jab.

"On the other hand, you don't even blink at the prospect of carrying around a _dismembered_ body in public. So… perhaps you have done this before. Not the murdering part, no. But perhaps you have helped others get rid of incriminating evidence—bodies, weapons and ammunition? Do you know how difficult is to get ahold of guns in Japan? If you were part of a smuggling ring it would explain why you had access to a firearm without having planned for anything ahead. But one thing is for sure… This certainly isn't your first time seeing a corpse this close. I can't think of another reason why you would dare to do this otherwise. Why Niigata Station? Why not somewhere else? This is me merely speculating, so I apologize if I get this wrong," said Hibiki lightly and with an insincere smile tugging at his lips.

He glanced at Sawada's tattooed hand, which he had first glimpsed when the man was speaking on the phone.

Dipped in black ink, it was only one letter of the western alphabet: Z.

Was there a story behind that? It was perfectly possible. Sawada wouldn't have acted alone. It wasn't in the man's character to make the first step without any backing. Someone must have drafted him in at the beginning of his criminal career (possibly blackmailed/coerced into joining?) because he also couldn't see him actually _wanting_ to get involved with a smuggling ring.

" _Hypothetically speaking,"_ Hibiki drawled sharply, examining his captive closely, _"_ you have an underground network backing your illicit activities. Small enough not to be a massive criminal syndicate, but big enough so that you have enough resources to dance around the authorities. There's no way a big criminal organization would have recruited someone this inexperienced into their ranks unless they wanted mooks doing their dirty work."

Theatrically, Hibiki sighed. He was always one with a peculiar flair for the dramatic.

"Right now, there are agents waiting for you at the station who have agreed to undertake the risk of taking the body to another location. That's the sole reason why you were willing to carry the body around for so long and in front of so many people. It was decided this way in order to make things harder for any search that the police could initiate when they caught wind of your victim's disappearance. And, yeah, they would eventually have looked for a missing living person. With nothing to suggest murder, they would be hard pressed to open a murder investigation. Whether your agents had planned to take a train to somewhere specific or not, I don't know yet."

"My point being… in the end, the victim's body would have never been retrieved by the authorities if your accomplices were meticulous enough with their cover up, and, without the stress of having to hide the body, any damning evidence that could have been used to convict you of the crime you committed would have disappeared without anyone being the wiser."

"But," Hibiki popped the word, as if to taste it in his mouth, "your ego couldn't handle not being able to taunt the police of your accomplishment. After all, they weren't useful when the smuggling ring came to recruit you. Why would it be different now? So, because you were feeling bitter, you just had to prove that you could come out on top when you wanted to. Hence why you decided to dump the head in the middle of Niigata Station. With so many people around, the police would wonder how you had done it and their incompetence would be exposed. By the time someone noticed, you would have been long gone. You didn't care if your impulsive actions were counterproductive to your original plans. In the end, the resulting panic when someone discovered the head would have been more than worth it. And if the police tried to put you in jail… well…"

The deceptively harmless teenager looked at the shocked criminal in the eye.

"If there's no concrete evidence, they wouldn't be able to keep you behind bars," Hibiki concluded in a soft voice. "Who was your victim, Sawada-san? My eyes are good, but I couldn't tell the gender of your victim. Was it your lover? Your neighbor? A childhood crush?"

In answer, the man's eyes rolled back in head and he dropped limply to the floor. He was out cold before he even hit the floor.

The whole thing was too funny for him. Hibiki had to bite his lower lip in order not to laugh. He returned his knives back in his pockets without sparing the action a thought and crossed his arms to stare at the unconscious man.

"Couldn't handle the pressure," Hibiki muttered, feeling like he had been let down somehow.

"Well," a familiar voice said. "That takes care of that."

Turning, Hibiki flushed in embarrassment at the flat look Inspector Hagure was giving him. That was bad. He hadn't even noticed him coming. Caught in all the excitement of his deduction, he had dropped his guard.

Amazingly, the sirens of the police cars were deafening to his ears now.

"Are you done?" Wakana walked up to him, face unreadable.

"Yeah," he said meekly, "Sorry?"

The high schooler whacked him on the head. Twice. Thrice.

"You! Stupid! Moron!"

Hibiki yelped, "Sorry, sorry!" and backed away before his skull gave in.

Unfortunately for him, however, Wakana was practically spitting fire. "We are going to be late because of you!" she snapped, pointing one finger accusingly at him.

 _Woah! Retreat! Retreat!_ Hibiki's instincts flared in warning.

"And why is this my fault!?" he yelled.

"Every time I go anywhere with you, something like this happens!" she yelled back.

"I said I was sorry, okay!? Things happen to me! I don't actively search for murderers in my free time, you know?"

"We should get you a miko to exorcise you! This has 'supernatural influence' written all over it!"

Hibiki scoffed and crossed his arms. "Oh, trust me, I will! Then you won't be able to use this argument against me!"

"Good!" Wakana spat.

"Fine!" Hibiki retorted.

Wakana gritted through her teeth, "Great!"

Inspector Hagure coughed into his fist. Both teenagers, who had been going for each other's throats, turned to glare at him.

"What!?" they yelled simultaneously and then they were back to glaring at each other.

Even the toughest of policemen were intimidated by this terrifying duo, but Hagure Ryouta had been hanging around them too much for him to be intimidated. Unlike the rest of his men, he had yet to back away from the bickering teenagers.

"Excuse me, Yamazaki-san," the inspector said diplomatically, "but I need Kuno-kun to give his statement."

"Go ahead," Wakana groaned with a resigned wave of her hand. "Take all the time you need."

Of course it went implied only that she didn't mean that literally, as evidenced by the impatient tapping of her feet.

Smiling politely at the detective's childhood friend, Inspector Hagure tugged Hibiki to a side and began his routine questioning.

"Kuno-kun, what did I tell you about those knives?" Hagure chided with the voice of a long-suffering man.

Hibiki looked away, crossed his arms defiantly and said nothing to the inspector.

"Ah… never mind," Hagure gave up. Because at this point in time he knew that Kuno and knives were a given combination. As long as nobody died, it was fine. "Now, how did you know the name of the criminal, again? You lost me in the middle of your deduction." The old man rolled his eyes. "Again, might I add."

Hearing the annoyance, Hibiki swatted playfully at the older man's shoulder and pointed to the sports bag.

"He had that tagged," he said.

Under the blotches of blood, _Sawada Hiroshi_ was perfectly legible _._

Inspector Hagure groaned aloud. It was so painfully obvious.

"You should also check out his cellphone," Hibiki suggested helpfully, "That might come handy when you intercept Sawada-san's accomplices at the station. The culprit spoke to them not so long ago. The devices are incriminating evidence of their cooperation."

"We already were planning on it," Hagure said.

"And look for people with tattooed hands in Niigata Station."

That brought the inspector up short, not able to follow his line of thought this time.

"What for?" he asked.

Had he not listened to the last part of his deduction? Hibiki had assumed he had, but maybe he'd not been loud enough for him to get everything from afar.

Thus, Hibiki smirked cheerfully.

"Congrats, inspector. You're about to take down your first criminal organization."

.

"Woah, look at this! The police took down a smuggling ring stationed in Sado Island! They found seventeen AutoMags, ten light machine guns and two assault rifles!"

"No way, dude!" A huge crowd huddled close around the center of the classroom, talking animatedly over someone's phone. "The mayor knew about it too?! Man, they are going to be in so much trouble…"

"Can't trust politicians. Never."

"Can't say I disagree."

"Incredible. Does anyone know if Kuno was there?"

"I dunno… He did arrive late today, though!"

Wakana groaned and banged her head on her desk.

"I just want to get away from the craziness," she mumbled into the wood. "Just one day. Is that too much to ask?"

"Apparently," Hibiki reasoned. He too was annoyed by this turn of events. To think the police would let the information leak into the media so soon… "If one more person asks me if I was involved, I'm going to scream."

"But you are involved."

"I know."

"You are always in the thick of it."

"I know and that's what irritates me," Hibiki moaned.

Wakana glared at him. "You will go see that miko," she threatened.

Hibiki glared weakly at her.

"I already promised, didn't I?" he asked.

"You will go today," she decided with one of her eyebrows twitching, as if that solved anything.

.

When Hibiki came back to his house, tired and irritable from the long day he'd had today, he was in time to witness his father go through a _major_ hissy fit.

"Um…" Hibiki hovered in the doorway, unsure of what to do. He turned a questioning brow in his mother's direction.

As usual, his mother flashed him a sunny smile. There was nothing in her expression that belied that she was going to have a meltdown anytime soon, but that didn't ease his worry in the slightest.

"Sorry, son, but I don't want to be the bearer of the bad news," she said airily.

 _Bad news?_

At her words, his father twirled in place to face Hibiki with a grim expression. Held between his father's fists, the _Niigata Nippo_ was rolled tightly into a ball. He couldn't see what had unsettled his father so much, but it didn't look like it was a good thing.

"Come on," he beckoned Hibiki inside and stormed his way to the study without so much as to wait for a response.

The door to the study was still ominously open.

Hibiki, who wanted nothing more than to curl up in his bed right now, today's events be damned, very reluctantly shed his sneakers to put his in-house footwear.

His mother saw the hesitation.

"It's fine. You aren't in trouble," she assured her son. She bent to pick up the laundry that she had left to rest on the floor. It was already ironed and folded nicely.

"Then why the drama?" asked the bewildered teenager.

His mother's eyes glinted with something indiscernible.

"You'll have to ask Hideyuki about that. My mouth's staying shut," she sang.

Hibiki shot her a suspicious glare, but dropped the matter all the same. When Sumi wasn't feeling up for talking, something suspicious was going on. That was a fact.

Summoning all his courage, Hibiki knocked on the study's door to announce his presence.

"Dad?"

Kuno Hideyuki was looking out the window. A storm was raging ahead and it would hit the city soon. His father didn't turn to greet him as he entered.

"I heard you were involved in a police investigation today," he told him. To his relief, no trace of the earlier rage could be found in his voice.

"Yeah," Hibiki sighed. "It caught me by surprise too. It's the second time this week that's happened."

Hibiki could see the fierceness of Hideyuki's posture softening. The older man heaved a quivering sigh as he relaxed his posture to a milder one.

"They are getting more frequent," his father informed him plainly, turning to face him for the first time. The older man's had some steel in them yet. "A year ago you wouldn't have stumbled across a corpse, except two or three times a year. But now it's almost a daily occurrence."

He… couldn't deny that, now that he thought about it. Hibiki had neglected to give the fact much thought. That may have been a mistake. He'd seen his fair share of bodies from the hits he'd agreed to do and maybe he's been desensitized because of it.

Wakana had been calling him Corpse Magnet not too long since first meeting him, (something that bugged him to no end) but lately something must have taken up the phrasing to be of the literal kind. That was… not good. With bodies came murderers and not necessarily of the tamer kind he'd encountered today.

That said, Hibiki had no idea how to react to that.

"A new complication," he muttered, mind racing.

"Yes. Indeed, there's much to discuss," his father admitted softly. Hideyuki dropped on his seat like a sack of potatoes and even sagged on the leather as one.

He waited until his son was seated opposite of him to begin his explanation.

"Have you read today's news, son?"

"No, I can't say I had the time," Hibiki admitted.

"Well, you'd better find the time to do so next time. You can't keep yourself in the dark when things like these come up," his father said.

"Things like what?"

"See it for yourself," he said and Hideyuki tossed him a ball of paper. Or rather, Hideyuki tossed him the rolled up newspaper he'd seen his father holding when he came in. Fortunately, Hibiki caught it before it could hit him on the face.

Quirking an eyebrow at his father, Hibiki expertly began unwinding the layers of paper with his hands. The familiar format of this newspaper allowed him to organize its pages in proper order and he did so knowing that his father was watching him do it.

Carefully, so very carefully, he began to read.

On the front page, Kaitou KID's newest notice made an appearance on the news.

 _"'Kaitou KID's newest challenge goes to Kuno Hideyuki, Head Curator at Aizu Yaichi Museum!"_

 _"'The latest heist to be announced by the internationally renowned thief, Kaitou KID, may be one that breaks the habit. Yesterday morning, a heist notice has been mailed to the Kuno household, where the current Head Curator of Aizu Yaichi Museum, Kuno Hideyuki, resides. What is KID's newest target? No one knows. The targeted museum is overtly known for exclusively showcasing the work of the local poet, calligrapher and historian, Aizu Yaichi. Thus, the reason why the thief's taunts have caused so much confusion with the local authorities this time around.'"_

 _"'Aizu Yaichi was born in the Furumachi area of Niigata, Niigata, and was a_ professor emeritus _of ancient Chinese and Japanese art at Waseda University. His focus was mostly on Buddhist art of the Asuka and Nara eras. Nothing in the poet's biography clears up why Kaitou KID is suddenly interested in his works, as it deviates from his usual MO. No jewels have ever been housed in the museum—or so we have been led to believe until this day. Nevertheless, the challenge has already been issued and the police force is already arranging for preventive measures_ _against the internationally wanted thief.'"_

From the get go, it had been clear that this piece of information was going to be distressing. He hadn't expected for this article to announce such a turnaround in his life.

Kuroba was coming _here._

Hibiki lowered the paper with much care, eyes unfocused and taking in what he had just read. Bitter smoke glided freely inside the room, product of his father's smoking, as they wondered what this could mean for them.

The teenager cleared his throat.

"Another thing that's different," Hibiki allowed, "Kaitou KID has never been in Niigata."

"So it is," Hideyuki murmured, breathing in the tobacco and the thick toxic fumes. "There was no Kuno family in your version of events either, so it shouldn't be strange to think that things wouldn't stay the same. A rock will create waves, but even the lightest of spiders will sink into the water if they stay on the surface for too long."

The young assassin shot him a blank expression and snorted. He scanned the article again with a passing glance.

"Where's the notice? They haven't put it up. That's rare," Hibiki commented.

"I have it," his father replied calmly.

His son nodded, having expected that.

"So what now?" Hibiki asked.

"We've already checked everything in that damned museum," Hideyuki revealed. "There's no jewel, of that you can make sure."

"This could be a fake then," Hibiki muttered. He rubbed his chin as he thought.

"Could be," his father allowed. "But even if he is, then this just means that the real Kaitou KID will show up in the chaos."

Hibiki huffed out a short laugh.

"You say? Oh, Dad, that much's guaranteed. The dumb guy will do everything for the benefit of Kuroba Toichi's night persona's reputation. Kaitou KID doesn't do _fakes,_ " he spat. "It puts a cramp in his style."

His father rested his chin on his joined hands. The same glint Hibiki had seen in his mother's eyes was being reflected in his eyes.

"You know his identity, son. You could always tell the police where to strike. Surely that would take care of the problem?"

Hibiki shook his head.

"No. Kaitou KID is a risk, but not a petty felon. Besides, I kinda get where he comes from. What you are suggesting is the same as putting a bullet through his head. I already told you of his circumstances, didn't I? Kuroba is after that nameless Organization and Pandora. As long as we don't have anything they want, they'll vanish back into the night," he said.

Hideyuki pressed the butt of his cigarette into an ashtray.

"What makes you so sure of that?"

 _Yeah. What makes you so sure?_ he asked himself. Where was he getting this confidence from?

Hibiki got up and started pacing.

Quietly, he said, "There's no need for an assassin to step in. My deductive skills aren't even that good. And the thief and the detective have always been a successful duo. Another player will put a wrench in the works, possibly disturb the balance irreparably. We do as we always have. We lie low. Things will work out. The story will progress the way it would without our intervention."

Hideyuki's eyes never left his son, cool and collected. A true Poker Face, ironically enough.

"Or they could not," he pointed out. "Kudou Shinichi has already been targeted and subjected to the APTX 4869. As such, Sleeping Kogoro is already making a name for himself in Tokyo. But _they_ are looking, son. People could see you, or worse, they could mistake you for _him_. The resemblance is uncanny."

Hibiki laughed, loudly, without bothering to conceal the hysterical undertone he surely was projecting all over the room.

"You didn't hold back on the names either," he hacked out in between the pearls of laughter, "Hibiki—Shinichi. Kuno—Kudou. Were you deliberately setting me up for this since birth?"

Hideyuki stayed silent.

"I mean, look at me!" The teenager gestured at himself.

It was as if the Detective of the East himself was standing in front of Kuno Hideyuki. Same hairstyle, even. 'Uncanny' was understating it. The uniform he wore was a parallel to what his counterpart used for Teitan High School, baring the tie, which was dark red instead of green.

"I even have that bastard's luck! Have you heard the news? Of how someone named Sawada Hiroshi was apprehended in Niigata Station for trying to hide a body there? Do you know who stopped him? Me, that's who! I thought nobody would try to do anything while I was passing through that place because it would be stupid to try with so many people around! But, oh boy, was I wrong!" Hibiki hissed through his teeth, like he was confessing a great crime himself.

He was frustrated. He was furious with himself and Sawada for being a fool. He didn't enjoy coming across murderers on a daily basis, unlike Kudou and Hattori. Those two got their kick off solving mysteries, something he'd never managed to get.

"Then there's Kuroba," he said, "Kuroba Kaito, the son of the famous magician, Kuroba Toichi. He's coming here to interrupt the relative peace I've achieved in all the chaos that has been sown into my life!" Hibiki took a deep breath to grasp some semblance to calm. It took a couple for him to finally settle down.

Hideyuki coughed awkwardly, "You done?"

Hibiki sent him a baleful glare.

"Right, stupid question," his father laughed sheepishly and sighed.

Hibiki scoffed and crossed his arms. "Just get on with it."

His comment earned him a good-natured roll of his eyes.

"No one is coming here to take away anything from you, son," Hideyuki began calmly. "They don't know you exist."

"Feels like it," Hibiki retorted immediately.

"Just because you feel something is happening, that doesn't mean that is necessarily true. You more than anyone else knows that. Let us not panic over what can be nothing."

Taking his precious time, his father lit up another smoke. He examined him closely before coming to a snap decision. His father retrieved something from the pocket of his coat and slapped a slip of paper on the table. With a stupid doodle casting a Glasgow grin at them.

"This is the original notice. The press doesn't have it because the police didn't want the information getting in the wrong hands. At my insistence, of course," he said with a quirk of his lips. Otherwise, he spoke without giving away anything else. The older man's eyes were flinty. There was a wall where there usually were feelings. "That Nakamori fellow is a piece of work, let me tell you that."

Hibiki couldn't help smiling at that. "I did warn you. You can't say I didn't."

"So you did," his father dipped his head to apologize for not believing him straight away. Hibiki's assessment of Nakamori-san had been spot-on. Hot-headed and _loud._

The man folded his hands together and stared contemplatively at him.

"Hibiki… You decide what to do now, but if you stay put and don't do anything, there might be consequences for all of us all the same."

Hibiki didn't even look at the card. He stared, mesmerized at the unusual spectacle his father made today.

"Understood," he nodded stiffly.

"And remember that family comes first before anything," Hideyuki stated flatly. There was no argument allowed there. "I cannot stress this enough. Sumi, as kind-hearted as she is, may want you to experience the world at the fullest, but not me. You won't risk your life for perfect strangers. I won't allow it if there's no good cause behind your reasoning."

Hibiki nodded. This was his father's way to tell him he trusted him enough to make a call. But before doing anything, he had to think things through. It was a simple show of trust, but it meant the world to him.

"Thank you," Hibiki murmured, touched.

Hideyuki reached out and mussed his short hair. He gave him a throaty laugh when he saw the end product of his styling, which, of course, wasn't all that good at all.

"That's my boy," he smiled, pleased with him and their little arrangement.

The sound of the door closing hinted at some kind of closure.

* * *

 **A/N:** My first try at a OC-centered story. This is a WIP, but if it's well-received, I'll try to continue it.

My fascination with Detective Conan and the fandom's lack of stories have spawned a weird kind of self-insert. To clear things up, it's not so much _me_ being inserted into the story, but rather someone who shares some of my personality and it's a just as gifted as the other Gosho Boys. In other areas, of course.

With a darker nature and much more violent than his counterparts, I am quite proud of Kuno Hibiki's character design. While he's almost like a carbon copy of Shinichi in appearance, his personality doesn't really allow him to uphold the same morals. Their backgrounds are quite different; blame insane parents. And while Hibiki will not hesitate to kill someone when things get rough, he won't be joining a criminal organization any time soon, so don't worry on that front. Or if he does, he won't be turning evil any time soon either.

Hibiki _is_ self-aware of which dimension he was reborn in and has future knowledge of this world; he kind of figured that if he didn't piss off the wrong people and stayed away from the main plot, he and his loved ones would be safe from harm. Or well, as safe as they could be with corpses practically sprouting from the ground for Hibiki to find.

Sounds similar, huh?

Setting is in Niigata, but not for much longer.

 _Betas are much appreciated. And suggestions and corrections are welcome as well. Deductive reasoning isn't my greatest strength and I need opinions on how I've done in this._

 _The image isn't mine._

Thank you.

 _(8/24/16) Edit: Changed image. Thank you, Photoshop._

 _(7/30/18): Edit: Modified things to give a better flow to the story._

 _I forgot to mention: Hi-boke-me is a bunch of Japanese insults mixed together with Hibiki's name. Same with Bakana. I love doing this hahahaha_


	2. The Ogre and the Poet

-Chapter Two-

 **The Ogre and the Poet**

* * *

 _Samaritan's Geal lends a hand with great zeal!_

Following the end of March's sample event, I'll steal Aizu Yaichi's greatest treasure! What even the Nara forgot, over the shadow of the great temples', the moonlight shall cast its shine once more.

"People say that

Faded colors are good,

But the mouth of the Buddha

should glow red,

like an apple."

Kaitou KID

.

"You want me to do what?"

Hibiki sighed. "I'm asking you to help."

"And I get that, assassin. Who else do you know that can pull half the shit I do for you?" Ogure grumbled something intelligible for a second. "Okay, surveillance aside, I get to wreck things up and mess with the lights. That's all?"

"No, I also want you to trap inside whoever tries to snipe Kaitou KID from that building."

"You don't ask for much, do you?" Ogure's voice simpered snidely.

"Ogure…" he growled.

"Okay, okay, easy-peasy. Child's play. No chance of me adgering the job, genius. Now, though—we talk about the payment. What's in it for me?" the hacker asked bluntly.

"I'd owe you a favor," Hibiki said, very reluctant to admit that.

Ogure hummed. "Forget that," he said. "I don't need a wishy washy detective; we've got plenty of those in Japan. Nah, I don't need a bunch'a Sherlock Holmeses right now. What I'm in need of is someone of your _other_ expertise. Someone quick to strike and crush my enemies in return for a favor. Catch my drift, kid?"

Hibiki closed his eyes, exasperated, and pinched the bridge of his nose.

"Let me guess," he drawled, finally. "Is it the Yakuza again? Those guys escorted you out of a nice little restaurant with their guns blazing or something?"

"Nah, not even close," the hacker whined. Paper rustled noisily from his end. "My girl told me today that she's gained a stalker. And what I've found disturbs me greatly. The bagbiter follows her constantly, you know, and he asks her out every day."

"That doesn't sound so bad," commented Hibiki lightly. "I never took you for the jealous type, Ogure. Who knew?"

"Don't joke around, asshole. I'm serious. He's cornered her, like what, six times already? It's getting a little frustrating here. And every time we try to pin the bastard with something, he walks out of the station with this fuckin' smile on his face. I wanna punch him in the face so much; like, you've got no idea, man."

But Hibiki remained emotionally detached. "So why don't you?"

Ogure growled.

"He's gotta have people in high places watching his back," he said harshly, coming off as more than a little resentful at the thought of this supposed stalker. "The bagbiter speeds and he doesn't have a single ticket to his name? This is Japan, not trigger-happy America! I don't buy that bullcrap, man."

"Quit fooling around, Ogure. Give me something concrete or I won't do it."

Ogure sighed. "Fine...! Pushy bastard. A little birdie of mine also told me he's also involved in some messed up shit."

Hibiki perked up with interest. "Of what kind?"

"Experimental drugs, human trafficking, black market stuff… You know, the usual. If it sells then he's there," Ogure grunted. "I don't like him."

No kidding.

"You just want me to kill him because he flirts with your significant other," Hibiki stated flatly.

"Oh yeah! I wouldn't mind if he disappeared into a ditch or somethin'," Ogure said cheerfully and completely missed the point he was trying to make. "One less cockroach in the world sounds fucking great, you gotta admit. And damn it if the police wouldn't be pleased with him gone as well. Those dumbasses are like figurines. They look awesome, with guns and sirens and all, but they do nothin' but look pretty when you need 'em."

"Should I tell your father in law you said that?" Hibiki chuckled in all good humor. Ogure let out a strangled laugh at the jest, knowing that he would tattle on him if he pissed him off. "Where's his base at?"

Ogure turned a page. "Righ' now? Tokyo."

The phone almost slipped from his hand.

"Hey, still there? Assassin? Hello?"

Tokyo. Of course he would be there.

Hibiki cleared his throat and blinked repeatedly. He brought the phone back to his ear. "Yeah," he gasped breathlessly.

The hacker emitted a disbelieving noise. "If you say so… Problems in the capital, by any chance?" Ogure asked.

"Oh, you wouldn't believe the massive clusterfuck that's going to blow up there," Hibiki groaned.

"Sounds fucked up," he deadpanned.

 _"It is,"_ Hibiki bemoaned pathetically. The teenager wouldn't even set a foot there if he could help it. The whole city was a fucking _landmine_ just waiting for the other shoe to drop _._ The mortality rate there was simply ridiculous. And he wasn't talking about just detectives and violations of probability here.*

"Hey, don't start filling me in with the details," Ogure said in a hurry. "I don't wanna get involved in your messes. And by that, I'm saying I want to live without a mob after my head. Just get the job done within two weeks and you'll have yourself a deal."

"Any chance he'll come to Niigata or _somewhere—far—far away_ from Tokyo any time soon?" Hibiki asked, a tad desperately.

"Our Seven Gods of Fortune have turned their backs to you this once, assassin," Ogure said grimly. And he sounded so sympathetic, Hibiki wanted to bash his ugly mug on a concrete wall somewhere until he couldn't hear the pity from him. "He's staying in Beika."

Hibiki slammed his free hand down the table.

 _"Shit."_

"Look, you're gonna do it or not?" Ogure asked, if a bit impatiently.

Feeling the pressure mounting, Hibiki tapped his fingers in a haphazardly manner, hardly feeling the prior impact or the soreness of his hand. His stomach was lodged somewhere in his throat and he just knew the sensation wasn't going to disappear any time soon.

Because _the_ _Black Organization_ and _Conan_ and the entire plotline was basically Tokyo and, very occasionally, Osaka. Niigata had been his safe haven until it wasn't and the fault laid squarely at the feet of a certain magician-thief with romantic aspirations of justice.

Ugh.

It was official. He hated KID. He was a right pest where he wasn't wanted. Just how many times had Hakuba dealt with these killer headaches? He wished the detective luck, he really did. He had to deal with KID's madness on a daily basis and Hibiki was smart enough to know how taxing on the mind that was.

(Fuck Pandora and fuck those men in black. Fuck the Black Organization and their shitty codenames.)

Why was he doing this to himself? His dad was right. He was a nobody. Not even a blip on the radar. There was no chance of them finding him here if he didn't catch their attention. Getting close to the main cast was just asking for trouble.

So what if he was solving more murder mysteries than usual? So what if KID visited the town he lived in? KID was one of them, didn't know him, but he was getting involved anyway? In a heist, of all places? Why? And for what? On the off chance their problems came running to Niigata and threatened his family? Wakana?

What was the point in this?

(Perhaps he was simply too curious for his own good.)

"Give me a name," Hibiki said, throat dry and resisting the urge to vomit.

"Way ahead of you," Ogure bragged. Now those papers in the background made sense, the cunning bastard. "Ishida Kohaku, twenty nine years old," he read. "Single and an absolute asshole to anyone and everyone who gets on his bad side. Officially, he's been working in his father's company for five years. But you know how that works. He got outta collage and straight into the family business and never got out. Doesn't want to, in all honesty. Guy's filthy rich thanks to his family fortune."

"Coming from you, that's surprisingly vague," Hibiki said. He was honestly surprised. Usually Ogure was very detailed in his reports.

"That's 'cuz I'll send you the rest after the heist. Hopefully we'll make KID have his first heart attack ever when he comes over. Hey, by the way, you never mentioned the KID being so young. Whatever happened to the other one?"

How did he-? No. Never mind. Ogure knew everything. He wasn't going to ask.

Hibiki tsked his tongue. "Search for answers yourself, if you're so inclined to know," he egged him on.

"Depends. Does it have anything to do with what you mentioned about Tokyo?"

"He's right in the middle of that, yeah."

That made him backtrack.

"You know, assassin… I'll think I'll pass," Ogure said slowly, dragging the words with his wary undertones.

"Good," Hibiki said, quirking a small smile. "I was getting worried for a second."

Ogure tsked angrily.

"Are we going to do this alone then, yes or no?" he demanded.

Hibiki couldn't quite manage to keep the smugness out of his voice this time.

"Don't you worry about that," he said. "Nakamori may not listen to me, but I have other people who I know personally that might just help us. Just do what I'm asking you to do and we'll be fine."

Now to convince his parents to let him go ahead with this...

.

"Are you sure you don't need me there? Really sure?" she stressed.

The 13th of this month had rolled in sooner than expected. And he was ready. He really was.

Hibiki exchanged an exasperated glance with his father. The older man shot him a knowing look before moving away to give him more space.

"Yeah. _Really sure_ ," he said, trying for the careless approach. His tone suggested he was rolling his eyes in annoyance. "What're you getting at, exactly? This is the third time you've insisted in coming to the heist."

Wakana fell silent.

"You hate KID," Hibiki said matter-of-factly. "Why do you want in so bad now, huh?"

He waited a bit. "Wakana? Hey, are you listening to me?"

His childhood friend didn't answer for a while. Hibiki was beginning to get worried.

"I had a change of heart," she said, voice falling flat to his ears.

Hibiki looked around him.

He had bypassed all security only because he was the son of the head curator. It wouldn't be as easy to sneak her in. And, then again, he was understandingly reluctant to compromise her safety just to let her see the heist. If anything went wrong tonight, the bullet shower wouldn't just _skip her_ because he didn't want to see her harmed. Involving her was dangerous and detrimental for his mental health. No, Hibiki definitely didn't want her to be involved in this.

Also, apart from the obvious threat, strapped with guns and silencers to complete the picture, it would be a pain to go fetch her when there were so many Kaitou KID fans flocking around the museum. They would tear him apart just for trying.

Besides, by some stroke of luck, Inspector Nakamori had put up with his presence in the museum thus far, but that could rapidly change if he pushed him too hard with another late addition to the party. And he had to be inside the building for the heist. He couldn't risk being kicked out at the last minute.

"I don't like it," Wakana was saying. And for a split of second his childhood friend sounded… strangely subdued. And afraid. "I don't like that you're there. Something terrible is going to happen to you, I can just feel it…"

The chill he felt after hearing that was definitely not his imagination.

First Ran, then her. What was with history repeating itself in this universe?

Hibiki cleared his suddenly-parched throat.

"What are you saying? It's just KID!" Hibiki laughed through his teeth. The false cheer didn't fool anyone. "I'm serious. Everything's going to be fine! Nothing ever happens in KID's heists!"

The girl growled, fed up with him and his stubbornness.

"You're such an idiot, Hibiki! Why don't you ever listen to me!? If you are there, then I'll be too! It's that simple!" she yelled.

"Wakana, you don't understand… I can't—"

Hearing the words before he said them aloud, she hanged up on him with a hiss.

Hibiki cringed and pulled away from the device. His ears buzzed uncomfortably. Her anger echoed in his ears.

"She'll kill me for that later," he whimpered.

Without a doubt, she was angry. His phone rang moments later with a small message. From her.

Hibiki didn't dare read it. Wakana was feeling vindictive; it was only common sense to ignore her for the time being. That was probably her threatening him with an embarrassing tale from his childhood or something along those lines. He had been pretty stupid as a kid, so she was plenty of blackmail material on him.

Before he pulled away from his phone, he checked Hagure's progress. Fortunately, there weren't any hitches so far.

Thank God he had the presence of mind to convince his mom to steal Wakana's attention away from this heist. Note the sarcasm.

(Sumi was _so_ going to pay for this one later.)

Wakana knew him too well. She knew something was off with him. Of course she'd want to come with him to the heist, the mule. Once she set her mind on something there was no changing her opinion. That was just how she was.

Now this was him praying she wouldn't ignore him and do something stupid.

(Who was he kidding? She was totally coming here.)

"Tell me in advance if a rabid girl with a ponytail manages to storm into the museum somehow," he deadpanned, seemingly to the thin air. " _When_ that happens, I want to have the opportunity to flee before the harpy finds me and skins me alive."

The small transmitter in his ear beeped in response. Possibly in sympathy. Most probably because Ogure was a sick bastard that basked in the Schadenfreude of the moment. The hacker was the type to laugh at the others' misfortune, no doubt there.

Hibiki heaved a long sigh.

Ignoring the suspicious looks everyone in attendance was getting from the Task Force, Hibiki gave one deceptively nonchalant glance at the convention center soaring over their heads in the near distance.

The arched windows of the museum allowed him an exceptional view of the building and the Shinano River. The sight would have been breathtaking in far better circumstances, with the full moon rising in the sky and the river undulating with the soft winds of the night. Even somewhat romantic, if you had a partner of your choice nearby.

Toki Messe, which was the multi-purpose international convention center that held his attention, was massively built and it was also considered to be the tallest building on the Sea of Japan. Coincidentally, in order to break into the museum, it was the perfect spot for a certain moonlight thief to take off with his hang glider.

It just so happened that the convention center was located opposite the museum, several blocks away from each other. Taking that into account, anyone who knew how to fly straight in a hand glider could jump off the building and fly to the museum from there. It could even seem like an impressive feat, if the person who did it timed everything right and made a shocking entrance crashing through a window.

The shock factor was possibly the biggest weapon in Impostor KID's arsenal right now. Kaitou KID wouldn't have revealed Pandora to the public, no matter how ambiguously. It was his trump card, the ace up his sleeve; 'a magician never revealed his secrets' was Kuroba's motto. But this KID had no such self-imposed limitations. And whoever it was, they were going for the aggressive approach.

That this was all a hoax was a possibility worth considering, at the very least. Hibiki remembered how both Organizations were overly fond of guns and for that reason he had prepared accordingly.

Incidentally, solving the Impostor's heist notice had been a simple affair, though some of its meaning was lost to him.

The first sentence was simple enough. ' _Samaritan's Geal lends a hand with great zeal'_ was pretty straight-forward. Despite the message being written in English, Hibiki hadn't had too much of a hard time as he translated it to Japanese.

 _'Samaritan',_ from the English idiom _'a good Samaritan',_ usually meant 'someone who gives help to people who need it'. Even initially, it had struck Hibiki as strange how _'Samaritan'_ was combined with _'Geal',_ a word which had dropped in popularity in recent years and was synonym to 'congeal'. When one described how being helped by others felt, one didn't choose words like 'cold' or 'freezing'. The complete opposite, honestly. Which was why the combination was so baffling.

Were they making a point here or was this an honest mistake on their part? Because 'Frosty' the Samaritan sounded just silly. And ominous.

'March's sample event', for another thing, referred exclusively to the sake fair currently taking place inside Toki Messe, this 13th being the last day it was held.

'Following the end to March's sample event' then gave them the date and time. At 9:00 pm sharp, Toki Messe had everyone gone from the premises without fail. Meaning that the heist was scheduled at nine tonight.

For someone like him, who had been born and raised in Niigata, the answer to KID's riddle was painfully obvious. For someone like Nakamori Ginzo—? Not so much.

Luckily, his father had suggested the possibility of KID appearing on this date and time to Inspector Nakamori, or there wouldn't have been any policemen guarding the place. And not even someone as headstrong as him could ignore his suggestions. After all, Kuno Hideyuki was the one asking for the police's help in the first place.

Other than that, Hibiki had let the other man try to work it out on his own, knowing that he would fail, so very miserably, in the endeavor.

Meanwhile, Hibiki wasn't too badly off, but that didn't mean he had this mystery all wrapped up. Simply because he wasn't an anime character who knew all the answers after magically having an eureka moment.

That was Kudou's department. He was Gōshō's OP squeaky toy, TM.

So what did the notice mean by 'Aizu Yaichi's greatest treasure'? What did he know about that poet that could be relevant to the situation?

In every biography he had encountered of the man, he was described as 'a poor, sickly, unmarried professor of Waseda University in Tokyo', an art historian and poet who had started with nothing and gained everything through a lot of hard work.

To a man who had been taught humility from very early into his life, his greatest treasure ought to be the results of his research, his poems, which he had sorely dedicated to resurrecting a long unspoken language.* But the writer of the heist note had made it seem like he was speaking of a jewel.

 _Why?_

It was a big question mark that did nothing to soothe his nerves.

So, all in all, this KID Impostor had succeeded in being an ambiguous bastard (just as much as the original, actually) while doing a half-assed job at it. The style was similar enough, he supposed, but the message, for those who knew what this was really about, was too blunt to be from the sneaky phantom thief.

He had to give it to them, though. Whoever was copying Kuroba's taunts was also taunting KID with Pandora. Almost dangling the jewel in his face.

The catch was… This Pandora could turn out to be a counterfeit—or the jewel itself. It could go either way.

Not that the police knew any of this. Maybe they had their own suspicions about the authenticity of this heist but they were crowding the place and running around like a troupe of headless chickens, searching everything and everyone who'd dare stand in their path, so he didn't hold out too much hope for them there.

It was quite hilarious, actually, how clueless they were. But the one who took the cake was only one individual.

One figure was different from the rest of the Task Force. His face was painfully familiar, what with his moustache cropped in a much Hitler-like shape. He was wearing a stiff green outfit that made him stand out like a sore thumb in the sea of police uniforms. That perpetual scowl on the man's face was very business-like, indeed. Inspector Nakamori looked like a tame gorilla looking forward to play with his favorite toy. That is, if tame gorillas could handle Nakamori's own brand of temper.

As expected, the funny man was fired up tonight, yelling and hollering to his underlings, who were all perfectly inside his normal voice range. What's worse, the Task Force was also giving their all and mimicking their leader's volume. Hibiki could have sworn he had bruises in the bruises of his ear drums.

This… _thing_ right here, he was not sure what to call it exactly, was turning into a screaming match between hundreds and hundreds of hot-headed males.

It was loud.

It was the first stirrings of a blooming headache.

(It was _hell.)_

The small transmitter in Hibiki's ear beeped to life.

 _"Hate to burst your bubble, assassin,"_ Ogure told him grimly, " _but, ah, I just saw your guy walk into an elevator_."

And just like that, all the amusement he had felt went down the drain.

Hibiki furrowed his eyebrows in trepidation. When he had told his contact to keep watch for anyone suspicious entering Toki Messe, he hadn't imagined it would happen this soon.

Hibiki wiped his slightly clammy hands with the blazer of his school uniform, almost offended by the way his body was betraying him now.

"Are the snipers in position?" he pressed the small button of the device with one of his fingers before asking in a whisper.

 _"Nah,"_ Ogure replied after a moment. The hacker took his time to continue. Annoyingly, the subtle pricks of static kept Hibiki on his toes and the _click, click, click_ of the mouse moving was absurdly daunting… Ogure was pressing keys on his keyboard, and Hibiki could just imagine him switching back and forth from one camera footage to another. " _No black in sight. But that doesn't mean that this guy's not working for them, though,"_ he said.

That made him pause. "Only one person broke into the convention center?"

 _"Yeah. This dude's knocked out at least two security guards on his way there. He punches them real hard. He's pretty damn brutal."_

Well, obviously that wasn't KID.

But what did this mean? _Samaritan_ was within their sights, but he was acting alone. That didn't add up. Where were the trench coats? That's what he wanted to know.

"Keep an eye on him," he said evenly instead of giving in to the rising panic. "The least we want is to be taken by surprise if he goes ballistic on us. Anything else?"

 _"He's brought lots of equipment with him. There's got to be at least thirty kilograms in that bag he's carrying, but dude moves fast all the same. He's not exactly subtle either. I can see the KID get-up slung over his shoulder."_

And in plain sight of the cameras.

"Keep me updated," Hibiki instructed quietly.

Ogure beeped his consent and resumed doing whatever he did with that thing of his.

Hibiki's shoulders slumped.

Only one person… Was he missing something?

His stomach churned with agitation. Unconsciously, the teenager started nibbling on the tip of one of his nails; he only did that when he was feeling frustrated. Catching himself only moments later, the young assassin broke out from his brooding mood.

Hibiki forced himself to focus on other things. Like the absurdity of this heist, for example? It had only escalated in his small lapse in concentration.

"Aizu Yaichi's legacy is safe in our hands!" Inspector Nakamori was yelling from a platform.

"YES!" the crowd roared.

"Our enemy won't leave scot-free tonight! I've had more than enough of that haughty thief getting away from us! Everyone, mark my words! We'll catch that blasted Kaitou KID and put him behind bars tonight, or my name is not Nakamori Ginzo, you hear!?"

"YES!"

Behind the inspector, Hibiki could see his father staring ahead emotionlessly, posture stiff and impersonal. Dressed way too formal in this scenery. Judging from what little he could see from where he was standing, his father was long past his comfort zone. Unsurprising; he had never been comfortable with the crowds.

It was when Nakamori was finished with his speech that his father took this as his cue to speak. Hideyuki stepped forward and tapped the microphone twice. He smiled tightly at his audience.

"I find your enthusiasm commendable, Inspector," Hideyuki said, bringing a sheepish grin to the man. "I am not one for inspirational speeches myself, but after listening to you I am confident in our chances against KID. I wish us all a successful night. Well then, everyone, please give your all." He bowed professionally to the members of the Task Force. "Our treasures are in your hands! Please take care of us!"

"You heard the man," Nakamori bellowed, pumping a fist in the air. "To your posts!"

The men rushed away, presumably to resume their duty. Hibiki could see a couple pulling at people's faces after asking for permission.

One even came to him and checked for masks. And let him tell you, his cheeks hurt a lot after that.

Holy mother of golly. He was never going through that again. Not if he could help it.

Hibiki touched his face and grimaced. It was official. He hated everything about this night.

The teenager glanced at his watch. Only fifteen minutes away from nine o'clock. And Ogure hadn't contacted him yet.

Damn it.

This was why he hated being out of the loop. He did nothing but waste his time waiting.

Spotting Hideyuki standing awkwardly next to a certain bragging inspector, Hibiki waved to his old man and beckoned him to come closer to allow him to save face.

His father moved rigidly, like a robot.

"You may not want to do that," Hibiki told him blandly.

"Do what?" he asked him when he had managed to lose Nakamori.

Hibiki gestured at his tense shoulders and clenched fists.

 _"That,"_ he said emphatically. "You'll give yourself a heart attack if you keep that up."

"Well, excuse me for being worried about my property. It's not like we're not being targeted or anything. We don't know if KID will return what he takes," His father rubbed at his face tiredly and sighed, but he at least tried relaxing his muscles a little bit.

 _He's worried._

Hibiki hummed, scrambling to say something positive.

Normally, he would say that the Phantom Thief would, without a doubt, return whatever was stolen, but he didn't know who this impostor was or if the real KID was really trying to make a point here and all this elaborate conjecture from before was only just in his head.

"It's not all that bad, though. A visit from the thief in the white monkey suit will only give you more publicity," he pointed out the obvious. "You could almost say it's good for business."

Hideyuki looked at him with a feeble smile.

"You would think that." He patted his head, a hint of a smile peeking through the anguish.

The teenager made a face at him.

 _Well,_ Hibiki thought to himself as he saw a member of the task force inspect one of Aizu Yaichi's poems on display. He was pressing his face against the bulletproof glass and generally acting like a ridiculous monkey. _At least if they break anything, we can sue them for property damage._

They had a good lawyer. Professionally speaking, Hibiki knew that Matsuhara-san would make sure they went through a rough time if they destroyed a national treasure because they were acting like idiots in the job. Police or not, they weren't above the law, after all.

"Were you talking to Wakana in the phone just now, Hibiki?"

Hibiki sighed. He was _not_ going to talk about her now.

"No."

"You are a bad liar," His father teased him softly.

Hibiki hummed, glancing away. What more was there to say?

"Talk to her. Whatever you've done, it's not going to go away just because you don't want to see her."

Hibiki shot a sharp glance at him.

"We're not having this discussion now, Dad," he hissed.

"And why not?" His father asked.

"Are you serious right now?" Hibiki looked at him skeptically. After all, Hideyuki knew about their unwanted guests.

It was for a split of second, but he saw the moment when his father wavered at his words.

"You're right," he smiled tightly. "No need to rub salt in the wound so soon."

The young assassin looked at the man. Eyed him closely. Inhaled discreetly.

His father was a heavy smoker, with a strong liking for vanilla. As a result, he always gave off a distinct tobacco scent. It didn't matter how much time he spent washing his teeth or whatever; the burnt tobacco stuck to his suits, it was present in his breath, you could smell the traces of vanilla in the air as he walked around. His father was quite the human chimney. A pretty logical result from all the smoking he did during his day.

The familiar smell of Camel, however, was now curiously absent.

Hibiki wanted to scream.

"I kinda pissed her off too much, but yeah. It's too soon to talk about it," Hibiki nodded and sighed. The mannerisms were right, but his instincts were telling him a different story now that he was looking for inconsistencies. "Did you have so much trouble with Mom?" he asked.

To Kuroba.

Of course he was disguised as his father. _Of course._ Because his life is convenient like that. Fate just let him storm into his life, peace be damned, so why the hell not?

(Kaitou KID was certainly _not_ the one on the roof.)

Having mastered the art of lying a lot time ago, and taking it to the next freakin' level, Kuroba scrunched the nose of his mask just the way his father did and half-lidded his eyes as he smiled at him in a very… _paternal way._

It was the same smile. The same friggin' smile. Kuroba was totally ripping off his father with this charade and _acing it._

Kuroba the shapeshifter, y'all.

Hibiki repressed a chill and returned the gesture, no matter how creepy that was. Supernatural hadn't helped on that front either.

"No, we didn't have it that bad, actually," Kuroba winked slyly. (He swore he could feel a spasm going through his body at the sight of it.) "But don't be discouraged. The charm of a tsundere isn't all that bad either."

What? What…?

Thinking that he had heard incorrectly, Hibiki stared at him blankly.

Moments later, Hibiki was sputtering incoherently.

 _Tsun-tsundere!?_ his mind shouted hysterically. His brain had to be of the sadistic kind, because now it was flooded with images of Wakana's scowling face, with the terrifying addition of a soft gloss of pink warming her cheeks.

Kuroba laughed. Heeding his survival instincts, Hibiki tried to flee away from him.

And thus, this was how, with the thief tagging along in the impromptu walk, they began to discuss—or more like Kuroba began taunting him about—his nonexistent love life.

Kuroba. Love life.

Wakana.

(He was _so done.)_

Hibiki could scarcely believe his bad luck. Inside his head, he was using the thief to practice his knife throwing skills and setting his hair on fire.

If homicide by immolation just became an option, then you knew when you had gone past your limit. Although, admittedly, he could see the charm in turning pyro. This was Kuroba's nagging at work, after all. His tactics in his pestering were _utterly devastating._ There was no mercy.

Worse still? He could see his father doing the same thing to him to distract himself from the situation at hand. And wasn't that terrifying? In what had to be a universal record, his face had done a complete make over in the last four minutes, achieving shades of red that he hadn't known they existed.

Hibiki cursed Kuroba. Hibiki hated Kuroba.

Hibiki was _interacting_ with _Kuroba._

In a small moment of weakness, he began to feel a little light-headed as the enormity of the situation hit him. But fortunately he managed to shrug off the resulting dizziness before Kuroba could take notice of his graceless staggers.

Having Kaitou KID impersonating his dad was one of the most bizarre experiences of his life. Not the oddest, not by a long shot, but it was still up there. Next to killing an extremely venomous lizard in Australia with only his mom's eyeliner and… oh, yeah, that time he'd been wearing a tutu in New York. If he remembered correctly, he'd been confused for a girl during a ballet practice when he was eight, much to the delight of his mother. There had to be pictures still from that day, now that he thought about it.

"What do you think Kaitou KID's here to steal?" Hibiki prodded at the thief irritably. He had had enough of this walk of shame. The more he saw that mask, the more frustrated his senses grew with the teenager behind it. And he had to shut him up somehow.

"'Aizu Yaichi's greatest treasure' could be anything, Hibiki. The notice suggests it's something that people have forgotten about, specifically the Nara, but I am not about to jump to conclusions here. People usually tend to forget about their ancestry and whatever secrets lay in history. It's inevitable," Kuroba said calmly, seemingly speculative.

"But if you had to guess?" Hibiki pressed.

Kuroba thought for a bit.

"Well… There are no gems in this museum that could interest a jewel thief of his caliber," he began slowly. "I dare say that it's possible that Samaritan's Geal doesn't exist, or if it does, it's not here. And if that's the case, Kaitou KID is trying to complete a fool's quest." Kuroba made a face. "But, on the other hand, he could have a specific poem in mind—anything, really, could have caught his fancy. Regardless, there's no predicting what that thief seeks without further information."

Hibiki snorted.

 _"People say that faded colors are good, but the mouth of the Buddha should glow red, like an apple,"_ he quoted grimly.

Kuroba wasn't looking at him, yet he wore a frown. "There Aizu Yaichi was talking about the Four Heavenly Kings from the Daian-ji," Kuroba said, masterfully keeping his face blank at the reference of Pandora. "We aren't a temple, son. Nara is still in the country and we don't have a treasure that belongs to them either." Kuroba smiled at him. Patronizingly, from his perspective.

"I was thinking about the Phantom Thief, actually," Hibiki demurred quietly. He sought eye contact with the thief himself, which he gave to him without too much pestering. "They say that the infamous Kaitou KID holds the gems up to test them with the moonlight. Kind of like an ill-hidden obsession." Kuroba wasn't reacting and they weren't stopping either. "'Faded colors' could be what refers to the gem's natural shine, which could or could not change with the moonlight. 'Red' could be the change he seeks, I think."

His body was relaxed, but Hibiki knew that the thief wanted to veer away from the topic. "Oh?" Kuroba murmured. "But why would he advertise something like that?"

Hibiki stopped walking. The one in disguise did as well.

He hummed thoughtfully, despite knowing the answer. "Well… he wouldn't. It was a taunt," he said.

Kuroba raised his eyebrows. "A taunt?"

"A taunt… or a call for attention," Hibiki corrected himself. "To draw _the_ Kaitou KID from Tokyo to this place… That wouldn't be out of place if the guy had enemies. Or hardcore fans who wanted to see him here desperately. If it's enemies, they could have the home advantage for all I know and they could stage an ambush or something to capture him. Really, Kaitou KID is never this blatant about his intentions. The one who wrote that notice didn't know what subtlety is." Hibiki shook his head in disbelief.

The thief's eyes glinted with a spark of intrigue and amusement. He spurred him on with a wave of his hand.

Oh, well, he might as well. It wasn't like he wasn't spilling his guts right now. Ugh… this whole thing was stupid.

Why was he here again?

Hibiki raised one finger.

"Kaitou KID didn't come to Niigata because he wanted to steal something. Someone lured him north by implying they had something worthy of KID's attention," he said.

Kuroba drank his words intently. Smiled.

"And how would you know that Kaitou KID was looking for something in specific?" Kuroba asked casually, but something about his eyes gave away the fact that he knew that he had figured him out.

"KID steals gems," Hibiki replied slowly, cocking his head to a side and examining him carefully. "And he returns them the next day. How does someone pick up a hobby like stealing? By wanting something, true… But in KID's case, he could have a particular interest for a specific target. That would explain why he never keeps the jewels. It's not necessarily greed what fuels his heists, as he would have already gathered a considerable fortune if that were the case, but this target of his has to be enough motivation for him to risk arrest."

"And the heist notice took advantage of the thief's interest," Kuroba concluded. _My, my, aren't you smart?_ His eyes glinted with the lights. "To ambush him," he repeated.

Hibiki nodded, at loss for words.

"But who would impersonate Kaitou KID?" Kuroba turned away from him and started walking again. Away from other people.

Hibiki followed after him and deliberately stayed behind his back, in an effort to intimidate the magician.

"Any fan would be delighted to try," the teenager drawled lazily. There were lots of people in that crowd outside the premises that, with the proper tools, would probably do it given the opportunity. "As a bonus, they get to see his idol in action. After going through all that trouble of summoning him to Niigata, they would be absolutely giddy at their success."

Kuroba laughed. "True. But wouldn't the enemies try to impersonate KID as well?"

"Yes," Hibiki nodded because it was a good point in KID's favor. There had been an instance when someone had gone for a full KID disguise too. "But why would they impersonate an internationally wanted thief? To cause confusion? To ensure an appearance from KID? To mar his reputation? Why not just leave a jewel somewhere in the museum and tell him to find it, like in a treasure hunt, to make it look more like a challenge and much more interesting? They are specifically posing as him in this scenario, so there has to be a cause for that in particular."

"Then there's 'Samaritan' again. It doesn't match. Unless... Whoever is behind that heist note is offering Kaitou KID the gem he's been looking for, unironically being a good Samaritan in that aspect, but that doesn't mean what they offer will be the real deal. They could believe they have the real jewel—otherwise they are baiting him with a counterfeit. Frosty the Samaritan could be all talk and no real help. Or the polar opposite of help."

Which was very, very likely. But, man if that wasn't a little too much for someone as harebrained as Snake. Why couldn't bad guys go for simpler ways to bait the protagonists nowadays? There were too many if's at play here. More than he was comfortable with.

Assuming that the person in Toki Messe was associated with that Organization, of course, the number of possibilities could decrease rapidly, however.

Kuroba stopped and choked on his saliva. "Frosty?" he gasped, bending a little.

Hibiki chuckled. "I aim to please," he said merrily.

Kuroba looked at him over his shoulder, recovering.

"You are on a roll today, son. Sometimes I wonder how you get all the facts together," Kuroba said, not breaking character. Half-heartedly, the magician examined a letter Aizu Yaichi had written to one of his friends in Tokyo before declaring it in top condition and turning to face him again. "Have you also deduced from the notice where the impostor is now?" he asked curiously.

"Yeah."

"Well? Why wouldn't you tell the police?" Ah. So Kuroba knew of his reputation as a detective? How he wouldn't hesitate to go to the police unless there was a really good reason not to?

Of course he did. He tried to know everything about the people he replaced.

"Inspector Nakamori wouldn't listen to me," Hibiki admitted bluntly, staring him down and with his hands in his pockets. "He isn't the type to listen to 'brats'. You saw how he is. To him, he's the KID expert here. He'd sooner check for a disguise than listen to me. And believe me… I'm rather fond of my facial structure. I grew up with it and I'm not having it mauled any time soon by an overzealous man. But if you want to try that out just get close and wait for it. He'll jump at the chance."

That Poker Face of his was impressive.

"So much snark," Kuroba smiled brightly. "You were very cute as a kid. I remember when you didn't have teeth; then I didn't fear you when you tried to bite me."

Hibiki mock-bowed and winked cheekily to Kuroba.

"We all have a method to our madness, Your Highness."

The earpiece beeped again, passing on Ogure's new message.

 _"I see the snipers. They are gathering with our friend on the roof now. The one that broke into the building is giving the KID costume to one of the newcomers."_

Oh, is that so?

Not bothering to pretend he wasn't talking to someone, Hibiki smiled at Kuroba, his self-confidence returning little by little with that little message. _Hook, line and sinker._ He hadn't been wrong, after all.

"Perfect," he said, teeth gleaming. He enjoyed Kuroba's shocked expression while it lasted. "Remember our deal, Ogure. Don't let them escape."

 _"Okay! Sic the hacker on those poor fools, why don't you,"_ Ogure snickered. _"The poser's gonna jump soon. Three minutes and counting, assassin. Watch the timing."_ Ogure switched footage and snorted. _"That KID with you?"_

"More like an acquaintance," Hibiki said, knowing that he would catch on. "Kuno-san was being a very accommodating host."

He was rewarded for his troubles with a bark of laughter.

Kuroba just stared.

"This was an interesting talk, sir. We should schedule another get together at some other time." Hibiki tipped down an imaginary hat and grinned widely to Kuroba. He made a grand gesture with his arms, not unlike what a certain magician did during his heists. "Alas, the clock is ticking. Toki Messe is closing its doors to the public and our sake fair has run out of samples to try," Hibiki spoke ostentatiously. "Sad truth, I know, but I fear that the dark is already upon us and only fools wear white in the presence of predators. Especially when they have certain aims in mind."

Hibiki hadn't exactly been discreet; someone had pointed out his suspicious behavior already. Predictably, heeding what the tipper said, the police was closing in on them from all sides.

Nakamori started to snarl orders and shout insults respectively. Most of the insults were directed at him.

They all thought _he_ was KID. Wasn't revenge ever so sweet? Kuroba never liked when he was the one being mimed.

Hibiki graced everyone with a very KID-like smirk. Secretly, he allowed himself to admire the smoothness of the act. "When that happens it's best to keep in mind to blind the crowds. Remember my words, Kuno-san. They may very well serve you in the future."

"KID!"

 _"On my mark!"_ Ogure warned.

Grinning uncontrollably, Hibiki saluted Nakamori with a deep bow. "Bye, bye, Inspector! Have a nice night."

Emulating the thief and feeling mildly ridiculous, he snapped his fingers just as Ogure cut the power off.

Then everywhere was pitch-black.

"GOD DAMN IT, KID!" Inspector Nakamori bellowed, stumbling and stomping. "He's still here! DON'T LET HIM ESCAPE!"

Sadly, the members of the Task Force couldn't do anything in the dark but unintentionally form a dogpile as they crashed with one another.

"Sir, the lights!"

"Someone outside reported in! Toki Messe has lost their power too!"

"What's going on!?"

Hibiki took advantage of the confusion and slipped away from the circle.

 _"Incoming."_

It was then that someone crashed through the window. Glass broke and was sent spiraling everywhere, letting some more light come into the room.

From the mess, a figure rose from the floor, bright and shining with the moonlight. He was dressed in white, wearing the guise of an elegant magician. Someone who was distinctly not KID bowed to his flummoxed spectators and presented them with a big diamond half the size of Hibiki's hand.

It shined red under the pale light.

"Ladies and gentlemen! For tonight's show, I present you with Samaritan's Geal," the Impostor smirked. "Your job is to steal it from me. Let's have a productive night, shall we?"

* * *

 **A/N:** Ogure is pronounced 'ogre'. The hacker, who is my precious baby, likes to be called that by his clients. Originally, he was supposed to have a unique accent and his dialogue had lots of swearing. I tried to tone that down a bit for you guys' sake.

*Reference to The Adventures of Kudou Shinichi, Fast Food Worker. Good one.

*Thanks Wikipedia and the Internet for giving me a brief description about who Aizu Yaichi is. My poet, of the same name, will be based on him and he's pretty interesting. So if Japanese poetry interests you then go ahead and google him.

In this chapter, I basically shoved multiple real landmarks from Niigata into one place and tweaked reality a little bit so that they would be useful for my purposes. The museum, the river, Toki Messe, everything is real. Again, if you're curious then google images.

For the record, I've never been to Japan.

Thank you TheDarkKunoichi for acting as beta for this chapter! Hope you like it better now! Now I need someone to help me with the grammar.

 _(7/30/18) Edited: Correcting things that frustrated me. Gonna see if there's any inspiration left to make an update soon!_


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